


The Crack-show

by The_Zoldyck_Needle



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Blow Jobs, Blood and Gore, M/M, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Switching, tongue-in-cheek narration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27723611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Zoldyck_Needle/pseuds/The_Zoldyck_Needle
Summary: Illumi enters a rare phase he calls the crack-show during which his mental image is shattering. In other words: he is going crazy. He needs to fix himself asap. Luckily, he is also a professional.His intelligent needle (let's assume it got cognizant after it landed in some high IQ needleman), describes a healing session Illumi organized for himself.
Relationships: Illumi Zoldyck/Leorio Paladiknight
Kudos: 14





	The Crack-show

**Author's Note:**

> The story is for a specific audience. I love bizarro fiction, and I think it shows in the text (just a bit). Even if by accident some tension is building, it will be swiftly dealt with in a ludicrous fashion. This story is to make insane individuals like myself laugh. 
> 
> It's good to remember this is written from a needle's perspective. It describes things awkwardly, like a new-born thing, not fully comprehending what is going on. Most of the time it assumes its master's detached viewpoint. 
> 
> It also speaks in present simple tense, because English is not my first language, and I wanted to keep it as bugs-free as possible. Which is impossible, so if you notice any spelling mistakes, please let me know on here or @Zoldyck_Needle on Twitter.
> 
> I tried my best to keep it close to HxH lore. I also took liberty in suggesting how Leorio's Nen awakened ♥.  
> 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No person is flawless. When someone like Illumi gets frustrated, it is hard to vent all the negativity away. On a daily basis Illumi is a calm, collected individual; there is nothing in the world that could make him furious — except a threat to his family perhaps. Other than that, he can sustain a lot of hardships: abuse, idiocy, sleep and food deprivation, extreme cold, burning heat, gut-wrenching stench, filth, poisons, drugs — what have you. But keeping this Stoic act for such a long time comes with a price. It is _not_ a flaw. It is the law of the Universe.   
  
Nobody is perfect and tension suppressed needs to find its way out eventually. For Illumi these occurrences are so rare, fingers of his one hand would suffice to count them. But they do occur, like an occasional headache or waking up to a stiff neck. Then again, he lives by the motto that _control is all_. Control your target, control your surroundings, but first and foremost — control yourself. As such, he realizes that something must be done to recover before it is too late. He is a self-repairing mechanism — a perfect Zoldyck assassin in every detail, taking flaws into consideration and preparing means to root them out before they cause any serious damage.   
  
People in similar predicament often resort to bloodshed when they finally snap. Many commit homicides as a result. Well, this is not an option for Illumi. Kills do not offer any relief. It is his job. This is what he does — for him, taking another's life is as mundane as it is for a baker to make a cake. Alright, sometimes it can be fun, but these moments are few and far between. He is a pro. Professionals do not endanger their mission simply because they feel like playing games. Illumi is serious about his family business. 

  
How then such a man finds a way to stop madness from taking over? How can he recover? It is not an easy task, in fact it is pretty complicated, nonetheless it is possible. From time to time, he lets his manipulator take place before the professional. Whereas his professional side is cold and methodical, his manipulator one is cruel and possessive.   
  
Illumi does not consider these rare moments as moments of weakness — no. This is simply coping with the inevitable. Mounting frustration and brushing it aside for as long as he is able to cannot go without repercussions forever. Him losing it is but a result of denying emotions their place on the surface. But there are warning signs, and before tension rips him apart, there is a means to finding a safe way out. He was there, he did that — he knows the tale.   
  
During these rare times Illumi becomes Hisoka's wet dream. He gets perverted and lewd, opened to receiving as well as delivering pain in all revolting configurations imaginable. Illumi finds some twisted satisfaction in thinking that Hisoka will _never_ learn about this side of him, no matter how much he would love to. And he would love to.   
  
No. Illumi much more prefers to toy with people who somewhat remind him of his family. Could it be him, secretly raging against his relatives? Maybe this is his late response to years of torture and abuse during training sessions with his father, and mother, and grandpa. Illumi would _never_ hurt his family — he would sooner die by his own hand than let this happen. But controlling some stranger who embodies a concealed aspect of what he despises about his dearest ones — this is an entirely different story.   
  
A regular observer would call what is happening to Illumi, him simply getting all his screws loose. Illumi nicknamed this process 'the crack-show', for the whole thing reminds him of a smooth surface of the mirror reflecting his own image that starts to break on its own. For the most part, when he is well, he sees in it his dispassionate, perfectly organized person. But then the image is starting to crack slowly, one chink appearing after another. Before the whole reflection gets smashed to pieces the process has to be stopped, and — the most difficult part — reverted. The cracks have to go back to the centre and vanish. Luckily, he knows exactly how to reach this goal.   
  
What Illumi needs is a toy. Someone strong-willed, who in one way or another will remind him of family. Someone whom he can control as he pleases with no consequences to anyone he holds dear. A person whom he can shame and abuse as he was shamed and abused in the past. This is why he has never scolded Hisoka for referring to the people whom he hoped to one day brutalize (Illumi including) as his toys. It would be a hypocrisy on his part if he did, and for one — Illumi is no hypocrite. Nor a liar. He does not have to be. It hurts him a little that he and the clown may have something in common, but it is what it is: he also needs a human plaything. The only saving grace here is that at least his tendency has a specific purpose and the whole ordeal does not come up very often.   
  
This time fate smiles upon him. By pure coincidence the right toy follows the assassin, saving him the stalking trouble. Zoldyck does not waste the opportunity. The moment it manifests, he grabs it by the neck, fast and firm.   


The clock is ticking. The cracks are spreading wider with each passing hour. He thought he needed the medicine only — but since the doctor came along with it, who is he to refuse such an abundance of good fortune. His mind is collapsing. His personality is falling apart. Perfectionist within him is lamenting all the micro-mishaps for far too long. There is nobody out there who is in a greater need of a healer. 

**The Crack-show**

**(or what Illumi's cognizant needle saw and is here to tell** **about it.)**

  


Illumi often gets overburdened by his father. It happens because Illumi is Silva's eldest son, most trusted and surely the most reliable. Illumi takes it as a compliment and a great responsibility, so he never says no, and gets overworked even during the crack-show. He has two assignments in the area, that is in the radius of a preparation school for aspiring medics.   
  
His first target is a corrupted politician who saw the light. In return he made local mafia angry. So much so, that they resorted to violence and dished out many Jennis for the Zoldycks to make things right.   
  
Acting as a woman, Illumi aims to lure his mark out into a remote area. He plays a role of a spoiled beauty, letting herself to be seduced by a loaded politician seeking redemption at a banquet. Alas, since the crack-show started Illumi gets irritated when he usually would have never frowned a brow. He wishes this job to be over — a thought that would have never crossed his mind if not for the crack-show. The job is over when it is over, not when he wants it to be! Soon he will not be able to think about anything else but his sanity slowly chipping away. For now, he has more control than he realizes. His target follows along just fine, drooling all over himself as Illumi sways his hips.   
  
Illumi can feel the big, sweaty palm rest on his slender side, squeezing here and there. He returns smiles when smiled to, and nods when talked to, just to keep the act going. He blushes when his butt gets pinched and giggles mindlessly when a bad joke is cracked — he is a perfect actor even when his mental image is cracking. The assassin sips on wine that has zero effect on him, gives the red-faced man a flattering look, flutters his eyelashes, beaming sweetly. The man swallows. Illumi growls inside. As he should not. It is the crack-show that makes him impatient and annoyed. Cracks are spoiling it for his professional side. With them he just cannot be at his best. It has to be stressed that Illumi is also a perfectionist. This only adds insult to injury.   
  
He lures the man to a silent place in the gardens. Nobody is around. Illumi kills him just like that, one long needle in the eye at the right angle does it, no finesse to it, only sloppiness if anything. He shoves the corpse over a high hedgerow, not caring if someone may be passing on the other side. Shortly after he follows suit, his expensive sparkling, dark-blue dress tears up to his chest. It is late so no people are in the nearest vicinity. Illumi throws the body over his shoulders and moves promptly to the nearest dumpster which happens to stand in the dark, damp alley.   
  
A certain someone notices a beauty in an unusual situation. Leorio, seeing a great figure in the blue night dress, carrying something heavy on her back, instantly decides he is not having it. As a gentleman he ought to help. And admire while at it. So, he corrects his small teashades that are there for no other purpose than to make him look cool, and goes after the girl. Only to witness how the beauty dumps a corpse three times heavier than she into a container for bio-organic waste.   
  
Leorio stops, breathless, and without making a sound attempts to retreat. He does not know he was spotted the very moment he decided to tail the lady. For the lady turns out to be one of the infamous Zoldyck assassins in disguise. When Leorio turns around to run for his dear life, Illumi is already standing in front of him, blocking his way, three needles sticking out from between fingers of his clenched fist.   
  
“Oh, it is you.” The assassin sounds mildly surprised.   
  
“Wha-wha-wha…” Leorio struggles to vocalise his horror. Maybe he is dead already and this info has not sunk in yet.   
  
“Do you not recognize me?” Illumi plucks out the needle holding the disguise together. After a brief while when his face twitches and stretches, he looks like himself again. Pretty as ever. “We met during the hunter exam. You called me an 'idiot brother'.”   
  
“Illumi?!”   
  
“Mm! This is right! I am so glad you remembered my name.”   
  
“I will go now. I don't—”   
  
“Why in such a hurry? You were pretty eager to follow me up to this point.” Illumi bends in order to shamelessly and openly stare at Leorio's crotch. “Your excitement does not falter.”   
  
Leorio's first reflex is to take a step back, then he realizes there is nothing there but a dumpster containing a dead man. He lets his arms go limp, back hunched, he looks defeated and surrendered.   


“Look, it was a mistake, okay?”   
  
“I am looking, and I doubt it was a mistake. I should kill you right where you stand, this very moment. I usually get rid of unfortunate bystanders who witness me work, but you…” Illumi moves closer to place his pale, cold palm on Leorio's burning cheek. The touch is light, yet Leorio reacts to it as if he got electrocuted. Illumi does not mind. “You are my little brother's friend. If I am to kill you, it would be best performed in front of Killu's own eyes for the lesson to sink in. To drive the point home. But since he is running wild with this brat, killing you this instant is a waste of re-educational material.”   
  
“Wha-wha-wha?!”   
  
Illumi moves his fingers nimbly, like a feathers touch, and before Leorio has a chance to close his mouth, the assassin manages to shove two digits inside, locking them behind Leorio's lower teeth.   
  
“A doctor, huh?” Zoldyck hums, tugging on the guy's jaw. “I am so tired of chasing after cretins. My last three jobs were relieving this world of filthy mongrels. I am not complaining. This is what I do, but I am just a person. I can get fed up with imbeciles once in a while. Maybe this is another reason to spare your life.” Illumi moves his knee up, to fill the space between Leorio's legs. What he feels there makes him stretch his lips in a smirk. “It does not look like you are unhappy to see the real me either. Is it the crack?” He points at the tear on his dress. Then he muses to himself in a low, melancholic voice, “A lot of cracks lately everywhere you look, is it not?”   
  
“Ill... shh...” Leorio utters, his mouth still blocked.   
  
“Hm? What was that?” Illumi pulls the fingers out, smearing saliva on the side of Leorio’s strong neck. He stops where he can feel a pulsing vein. Illumi tilts his head, pressing that point just a little, liking the feel of it. He forgets himself, trying to hear the panicked blood flow rushing through there. This is how bad the crack-show has progressed.   
  
“I won't tell anybody I- I—” Leorio's eyes grow larger when he sees Illumi still listening to his pulse, lids closed serenely as if it was a music to his ears… or fingertips. A nice tune. When Illumi opens his eyes, something purplish is sparkling in there.” I-I—“ Leorio keeps stuttering until he swallows. When he clears his throat, the words shoot out of his mouth as if it mysteriously turned into a machine gun for phrases, “I-won't-tell-anybody-what-happened-here-I-promise-I-beg-you-don't-kill-me-please!”   
  
“I do not care if you tell or not.”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Go, tell.” Illumi extends his arm to push Leorio's fashionable teashades further up his face. “It will be just a few more people for me to kill. I would do it for sport, and to see your aghast face. Then something tells me you would not want _this_ on _your_ conscience.”   
  
Leorio gulps and asks in a shaken voice, “What do you want from me? I don't know where Killua is.”   
  
“I know where he is. Safe in the Heavens Arena. Do not worry about him. Do worry about me being a very troubled assassin in need of a doctor. Do take care of me.” Illumi looks at his torn dress, his thin brows furrowed. “I also need to get out of this clothing. It is damaged, and nothing like my style.”   
  
“I don't… you want… you expect me to… to _do_ you??!”   
  
“Oh, the choice of words!” Illumi clasps his hands like a child would. A small smile brightens his features. “If it were my lips they got out of, it would be a wise thing to ask to specify, but I know you are no killer.” He pats Leorio on the cheek merrily. “Straight to the point. I will pay you a visit tomorrow night, after my second assignment here. You better get ready to mend my wounds.”   
  
Leorio is just standing there, staring, mouth opened wide — this time no foreign fingers in them. He is slow to process what is going on. Probably too tired after a full day of preparing for the medical school entry exam. Illumi turns to walk away, but before he disappears into the darkness, he adds: 

  
“Oh, and Leorio, do not try to run. You cannot outrun me.” 

  


* 

  


Illumi is known to rarely smile. It is not true. He does smile internally, and lets it be heard in his voice. But when the crack-show is in motion, and he notices one of the cracks retracting, he will openly stretch his lips in a devilish grin — a rare view. By tomorrow, in two days the most, he will be back to his normal self that everyone admires and fears. By this time though, he is a person everyone would gladly put in a straitjacket and fire off into the deep space.   
  
When Illumi is in this state his black eyes are reflecting violet and purple. Who knows where it comes from and what does it mean; but it is just like him: beautiful and terrible. 

  


* 

  


The next day comes with another assassination assignment. Illumi sneaks up to the limousine, kills the chauffeur, strips him naked and deposits his body in the trunk, covering it under a thick layer of blankets. Next, he adds an axe to the pile — a necessary asset for the job. Dressed as the driver, he takes the seat behind the wheel, waiting for his mark to arrive.   
  
The target is an elderly businesswoman, this one sharp and witty for a change. On the side she takes part in human trafficking, illegal organs acquisition and trade. This vengeful lady had her unfaithful lover's daughter chopped into pieces. Once the lover learned about his child's horrible fate, he hired the Zoldycks to chop his ex-lover into pieces too.   
  
Illumi waits in the limo, expression blank, but his actions speak louder than his still visage. He devours one chocolate after another, one Choco-robot after another — in this regard he is no different from his siblings. He has a sweet tooth, just like Milluki and Killua, only during crack-show it is a barely containable craving. Illumi finds some bliss in thinking he and his brothers are so alike. _He loves his family oh-so-much_ — he chants in his mind, as he takes the Choco-robot's head off in one bite.   
  
The mark is taking her time. The assassin shifts on his seat. He took a leak before the job, but now his bladder is calling again. No big deal. He can hold it for hours, he was trained well, but it is uncomfortable and it pisses him off. The crack-show is in full blast. The assassin never forgets how it contorts his psyche. Illumi will not be broken though. Not now, when he found a plaything, which also happens to be a healer. The tension eases a tad. So is the pressure on his bladder.   
  
The lady in a fashionable grey complete comes. Zoldyck gets out of the limo, dressed in a neat black suit and a matching hat, shades covering his eyes. He opens the door for her, lets her on the back seats, receives a destination order, starts the engine and secretly munches on the last bits of the chocolate.   
  
They are on their way. After some time, the woman notices something is not right. The instant she does, Illumi locks the limousine's doors and windows. Soon she screams and yells at him, and pounds on the translucent, plastic wall separating the driver from the passenger seats on the back. Illumi takes a sharp turn left where a thick forest grows, the car vanishes between the trees. Next, he turns to take one 'before' photo for his client. He will take another one 'after' as a proof of his professional attitude. Illumi opens the trunk, collects the axe and warms his right arm up. It will soon be moving up and down tirelessly until the job is done. With the face as devoid of expression as ever, he grabs the squeaking, tossing, scratching and kicking woman by the hair and throws her out of the car. Nobody would ever suspect this professional is through a very harsh internal struggle. This is how devoted he is. 

  


* 

  


Every assassin worth his salt would never enter a household through the usual means. Assassins in general like the high places. Illumi is no different and thus he manifests himself in Leorio's apartment knocking at the window's glass, swinging from above like an agile monkey. It is a politeness on his part — normally he would cut the hole in the glass and opened it for himself. However, since he is in high spirits, for he expects to be cured tonight, he is for it a kinder person.   
  
“Will you let me in?” Illumi asks, when Leorio opens the window.   
  
“What are you, a vampire? You need an official invitation?” Despite his cocky demeanour Leorio's voice is small and shaken.   
  
“Not a vampire, but I do tend to shed a lot of blood.”   
  
A slim silhouette slides inside, dressed in a green vest pierced with needles, purplish tank top, green loose pants and somewhat fashionable, neat booties. Illumi looks around, his long hair swinging to the sides as he turns his head.   
  
Leorio's living space is basically two rooms and a kitchen. It looks like a bathroom is shared in this dorm. This room is a bedroom and a study room in one — with stuffed bookshelves and a wide desk (also buried under thick tomes). A little lamp is situated there, giving off a soft, orange glow.   
  
“So,” Leorio starts, “how can I help you? You ill?”   
  
“Yup,” Illumi replies, still walking around, moving gracefully like a model on a stage.   
  
“Wanna tell me about it? I'm only preparing for my medical study, but already I could get you on some meds.”   
  
“No, ordinary pharmaceuticals will not do.”   
  
With a sigh Leorio sits at his desk, watching the assassin with his restless eyes. Since Illumi is the silent type, he decides to just wait it out. Illumi finally reaches to his side and pulls out a heavy knife; its sharp blade flashes in the lamp's light. He places his left hand on the table in front of Leorio and swirls the weapon until the hilt is facing the other man. Leorio nervously adjusts his teashades.   
  
“Grab at it, Leorio. Let us play.” Illumi sees the horror on Leorio's face and many questions reflecting in his bright brown eyes. “Oh, you do not know the game? The tip of the knife must land between my fingers. Just like this.” He retrieves the knife, and moves the sharp tip incredibly fast, his hand one pale smudge. Leorio squints, aghast and amazed. Is such a lightning speed action physically possible? Illumi hands him the knife over. “Your turn.”   
  
Needless to say, Leorio's stabs are in comparison sluggish.   
  
“Faster.”   
  
Leorio tries faster but it still looks like a bullet-time motion.   
  
“Go faster, Leorio.”   
  
“I don't want to stab you, you goof!” Leorio snaps at him, pearls of sweat appear on his temple.   
  
Illumi just smiles politely. Leorio thinks he has a madman in front of him. He is not much mistaken.   
  
“Faster, faster!”   


It is obvious that Illumi wants to get stabbed, so without further ado Leorio does just it, with all the tenderness of a future doctor. The knife cuts shallowly into the milky skin. The moment Leorio is about to let the knife go, Illumi wraps his other hand around his, squeezing the hilt together with Leorio's palm, and pushes the blade further down through his own flesh. The big eyes are opened wide, staring into Leorio's soul, something purple and violet is blinking on their surface. Illumi does not smile anymore, he is looking so intensely as if he wanted to consume the young student's feeling of terror, as if he wanted to make the sensation his own. Leorio washes the dread off his face and Illumi approves it.   
  
“That is right. Doctors should never recoil from the sight of blood.” He removes his grip and dips two fingers in the small pool of blood. “Open wide.”   
  
When Leorio does, not a word of protest raised, something switches in Illumi's mind. An echo from the past arrives, triggered by Leorio's superb exhibition of obedience. The student becomes him, but younger, his hair short. Illumi is now Silva, he leans forwards, looking at his bruised, bound son. Silva shoves two fingers into young Illumi's mouth. “Suck.” The echo soon passes and Illumi is returned to his own body; he blinks twice, startled a little.   
  
Leorio stifles the choking reflex and licks Illumi's fingers clean. Satisfied, Zoldyck removes the blade with one firm jerk and admires the wound.   
  
“Nice slit. I can only imagine what Hisoka would do to it, were he here in your stead. Luckily for both of us, I am far less perverted. Drop your pants down.”   
  
“Illumi––”   
  
“Drop them.”   
  
A needle appears close to Leorio's throat. He drops his pants as if they caught fire. Illumi goes behind him, his injured hand bleeding profusely.   
  
“Got to be quick about it, since I heal pretty fast. You can ask me questions.”   
  
Illumi reaches down to Leorio's exposed private parts and starts to jerk him off with his bleeding hand. Repulsed, Leorio sits still, trying to think about something sweet like kittens or puppies, just not the stabbed hand pumping his baton. Sadly, nothing comes to mind. He wants to puke, so he asks instead:   
  
“Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you?”   
  
“Well, doctor, I am glad you asked. On very rare occasions I am having unexpected mood swings.”   
  
“Mood swings?”   
  
“That is right. It is very out of my character. I think my little brother's recent actions are to blame. I am having difficulties keeping blood-lust at bay. Lately it can be triggered by a minor annoyance. I am usually able to hold it for the first two or three times it happens. Still, it is a great risk to my occupation. So, before it gets out of control, I am seeking your assistance.”   
  
“You should get locked up in a mental asylum in a room with no knobs for the rest of your life, is all I can tell you.”   
  
Illumi tugs on Leorio's flaccid sex pistol, and comes to the conclusion that, alas, blood does not arouse him. Nor does it arouse Illumi, to be frank, at least not under the current stars' alignment. Illumi thinks he must have spent too much time in Hisoka's company. Such a gory display would get the clown off before Zoldyck could count to three. Has the crack-show messed him up so badly? Is his judgement so poor already? On the other hand, he imagines how much we would like to break the clown's spine - to spin Hisoka's grinning head on that broken neck like a wheel of fortune, to beat it with a stick like a piñata. The vision makes him feel twitchy in his pants. Which stands to prove his condition is not yet that critical.   
  
Anyhow, since it does not work for neither of them, he stops jerking Leorio off like this, and opts for more traditional methods of operation. Tradition — if it had not been bringing results, it would not have become it. If in doubt, always resort to what has been tested many a time.   
  
“Where are the bandages and disinfectant?”   
  
Leorio moves his head towards the kitchen's general direction, his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the bloody mess down there. Illumi finds what he needs and brings it back to the desk. Leorio speaks:   
  
“I'm serious. See a psychiatrist. Can find you one. A good one. Discreet and professional.”   
  
Illumi ignores the offer, rummaging among the things he has brought.   
  
“Disinfect and wrap it.” The assassin drops to his knees, putting the injured hand on the table with a loud slam to focus Leorio's attention on it. “Tell me your thoughts on how Killua did during the hunter exam.”   
  
The familiar sight of bandage, gauze, cotton pads and hydrogen peroxide brightens Leorio a bit. Grateful for an opportunity to shift his attention elsewhere, he gingerly corrects his shades and gets on with cleaning the wound. Illumi may be volatile lately, but he knows how to distract the minds of his targets from the dreadful things he has done to them. Besides, he has something to clean too. It is a good thing that own blood never tastes bad.   
  
He sucks and lick Leorio's penis clean with a precision of a perfectionist he is. Meanwhile, he listens to the other man's tale of how Killu performed during the exam. As expected, it was a trifle for his little sibling. Oh, how fortunate that Illumi is such a loving big brother. Otherwise, Killu would have obtained the license without breaking a sweat. With him around, not only did he fail the exam but he was sweating like there was no tomorrow.   
  
The very first time Leorio mentions Gon, Illumi slaps him across the face. 

  
“Never mention that name in my presence or I will carve this message on your chest with a napkin,” he threatens, and he means it. Leorio somehow believes the assassin could make this threat a reality.   
  
From this point on, Leorio is mindful not to speak Gon's name again, as he answers Illumi's questions, all of them without exception about Killua. He cannot help but notice that Illumi's precise, calculate movements around his member — soft tongue and gentle sucks — are doing their work on him. In addition, the assassin's long silky hair is teasing his thighs mercilessly. Leorio delivers answers, trying to stiff groans while he disinfects and wraps the injured hand. He is not bad at multitasking, but there is still room for improvement.   
  
“What other things did he say about me?”   
  
“You scare him.”   
  
“Killu simply confuses my concern for his well-being with something else. I am not a threat to my family.”   
  
“He said, once he's obtained the hunter license, he will hunt his whole family down.”   
  
Illumi snorts into Leorio's crotch, “How adorable.”   
  
Leorio jolts as the warm air from Illuim's nostrils punches him in the sack.   
  
When Leorio starts getting hard in his mouth, Illumi slurps loudly and proceeds to roll the cock's length between his palms. Who knows why he does this. He may have just lost it already. Leorio, embarrassed by his erection, asks:   
  
“Please. What is this for?”   
  
“This is a therapy I devised for myself. If this is of any consolation to you, the last time I was almost over the edge it took the lives of several individuals to get me back on track.”   
  
“Are you admitting you are going to kill me after all?”   
  
“Nope. What I am trying to convey here is that nobody has to die tonight. As I told you, you are my little brother's friend. I would never dream of killing my brother's friends... unless he is present to witness me eventually do it.”   
  
“You are one sick asshole,” Leorio sums up. He wraps Illumi's hand up a little too tightly than is necessary. He does it on purpose, and feels guilty one second later.   
  
Illumi could not care less.   
  
“Not for long. I already feel less cracked.”   
  
“How many people have you killed the last time these... mood swings occurred?”   
  
Illumi hums, going back to sucking on his healer's hard manhood absentmindedly, fondling with it, tossing it from one hand to another, as if it was some kind of jester out of the box on a spring — a plaything. In a way it is. Leorio is too fearful for his life to feel awkward at this sight. 

“One needleman for each member of my family,” Illumi recollects. Apparently, he was only rewinding his memories. “It was _really_ awful back then. Ordered them around until they were spent and I mended.” He does not smile at the flashbacks. When he speaks again his face is deadpan, “It was surprisingly uplifting to watch needle Zeno hang needle Silva on his own intestines. But I––” the assassin squeezes Leorio's thigh passionately, “–– I would NEVER hurt family.”   


Something in Illumi's tone forces Leorio to look down. He meets an accusatory, suspecting stare of two deep wells for eyes. This scares the living hell out of him. The pupils are clouded with violet mist, shooting lightnings as if it was Leorio who made the needlemen show using strangers to impersonate the Zoldycks and watched them kill each other in most gruesome ways. It is also thanks to the crack-show, that Illumi's blood-lust pours out a bit, causing the young doctor to tremble, the feeling of doom slowly creeping on him. Insanity barely contained is clearly visible there, dancing among the purplish sparkles in Illumi's gaze. Leorio feels he needs to sooth the beast, and luckily, he knows how. The key is _understanding_ administered with _unwavering conviction_.   


“Of course, you wouldn't. You've been pretty clear about how _you would do anything to protect your family_.” He notices with relief that the assassin's gaze becomes less crazed, more calmed. Tension dissolves. Somewhat. “Sorry I asked.” 

“Well, you are the doctor here.” Illumi hums, going back to playing with Leorio's rod. “Questions are to be expected. Now, before we decide who is top and who is bottom, let me wash the taste of my blood from my mouth.”   
  
Illumi stands up, his right hand disappears in his pants' pocket. He fishes out a milk chocolate bar, puts it on the desk, unwraps it, and pops two pieces into his mouth. Munching on it for a while, he licks his lips slowly, sensually, with a very visible delight. Leorio gulps, while staring. Illumi notices and offers to share.   
  
“Here. Have some.”   
  
Leorio shakes his head, swallowing hard. Killua mentioned something about being treated to poisons in his daily meals to make him immune. Leorio is afraid this gorgeously smelling delicacy is lethal. 

“I said _have some,_ ” Illumi repeats, an edge to his voice clearly audible, two pieces of choco in his hand.   


With a resigned sigh, Leorio opens his mouth, and the assassin drops the creamy squares onto his organ of taste. For a moment they sit like this, tasting the melting heavens. Illumi relaxes, smacking and humming, while Leorio tenses, praying for his life. If there was a poison, he probably would have felt it by now. Since he does not, he also relaxes his muscles. And repositions his shades.   
  
“Yum!” Illumi licks the last choco bits off his fingers. The next thing he shoves into his mouth looks suspiciously familiar: very tiny, and very wobbly, but still a needle. “Okay, let the chance decide on our positions.”   
  
“What do you mean? Why are you eating needles?”   
  
“This is my favourite game.” He takes the needle out and presents it to Leorio. “This is my experimental, conjured needle. Conjuration is not a manipulator's strongest suit; thus, the object is elastic at first. Look.” Illumi flexes the pin and indeed it seems harmless. It is misshapen, seemingly dripping, molten like the clocks on Salvador Dali's painting. “But at some point, it will get as prickly as a pin should be. One of us will eventually get the sharp end through his flesh and the blood will flow. If it is me, I am bottom. If it is you, you are. We shall switch later. Simple?”   
  
Leorio rises sluggishly, his knees shaking. “Maybe there is some other way. I know something on neuroscience. You don't really need to––“   
  
The crack-show sends another rift down the assassin's mental image, Illumi's mood swings, and he grows impatient. He grabs the man by the shirt and pulls him close, their lips collide rather vehemently. Leorio's eyes widen, racing side to side, as he carefully tries to explore where the cursed needle might be hiding. As if driven by sheer spite, Illumi grabs him by the back of his head, and manoeuvres it in all directions, pressing his lips against Leorio's tightly. He does it to skew the other's orientation. Leorio thinks it is unfair. Illumi clearly has an advantage here –– he knows his needles, he made them, he most likely can easily track where exactly the small object is coursing between their sealed mouths. And so, to his great surprise, it is Illumi who breaks them apart, hissing silently as a thin trickle of blood escapes from the corner of his mouth.   
  
“Ouch. Lucky me.” Zoldyck swipes the blood off with the back of his hand, spits the needle out and locks it securely on his clothes somewhere. He points towards the bed and leads the way, undressing swiftly. The only thing that remains on him is his needles stuffed top.   
  
“You do not mind?” Illumi asks courteously, stroking metallic heads on the front. “I do love them on me when I am being operated on. See?” He unfolds the inner side of the vest to show some sharp tips protruding through the material and thus, reaching the assassin's bare body.   
  
“Why are you mutilating yourself so?”   
  
“It is my way to further increase my tolerance for pain. Slow, small but effective. My top tanks are thicker than they look. In reality the protruding needles rarely scratch me, and if they do, it heals rather fast. Not gonna lie though, I like when they sting.”   
  
Illumi crawls onto the bed and quickly adopts the right position, stretched on his back.   
  
“When I am on top, I go easy. But like this, I like it rough. Come. Do not hold anything back.”   
  
“I… I don't think I can…” Leorio blushes, and to do something to cover his lack of more fierce resistance, he corrects his teashades. He is grateful he has them.   
  
“Yes, you can. If you hate me, consider this an opportunity to blow off some steam. It takes a lot to make me cry.”   
  
“I don't hate you.” And this is true. If anything, Leorio pities this poor freak of a nature. He knows Illumi went through the same ordeals Killua did. But Illumi did not have someone like Gon to save him from himself. It is sad to see this fine man reduced to a soulless puppet. Illumi has everything going for him: brains, looks, and charm. All went to hell, when his loved ones broke him. Such a sad excuse for a human being – this is what Leorio thinks.   
  
“I can grow breasts if it will strengthen your resolve,” Illumi offers, a needle twinkles between his fingers.   
  
“No, it's fine.” 

And it is also true. Illumi is lean, tall and muscular, but not in an invasive way. His skin is like porcelain, he looks so delicate. He is a perfect blend of femininity and masculinity. His raven hair now spilled on the pillow like shiny smears of an artist's brush. Both hands resting on them like an ebony frame to the sides of his gorgeous face. Big eyes, black with violet and purple reflexes, covered with long eyelashes. A fine line of thin eyebrows, patiently still, awaiting his move. Illumi is the most beautiful monster Leorio has ever seen. In other circumstances, had Zoldyck been a normal man, he would not have hesitated for a second. But these are not normal circumstances, nor is he a normal guy. There is a weird aura around him, that constantly reminds Leorio his life is at stake. If Illumi is as unstable as he claims to be, he can just kill him despite his promises. But no, no tits required.   


Leorio runs his hand along Illumi's thigh. The assassin shifts a bit, opening himself for more. Zoldyck moves his fingers invitingly, enticing him to move closer, and Leorio gasps when he sees the brittle palm change shape into a horrific claw of the same type he once saw on Killua. He gulps and chooses to ignore the sight. He prefers to focus on Illumi's body and visage — it is far prettier, and it should not morph into an abomination. Little does he know it could, if only his blood-lust got triggered bad. But nothing indicates this will occur tonight, as Illumi is just laying patiently, waiting, following Leorio's every move with the hungry eyes, reflecting some inner purple flame. 

  
Leorio's big hand moves along the monster's side, and stops at the hip. It is a nice hip. A feminine one, with deep curve, slick to the touch. He caresses the cool skin with his warm palm, sighs, pushes his teashades further up his nose, and gets on with it.   
  
Illumi's long legs lock on Leorio's back, hands wrap around his neck tightly, needy, when the doctor assumes position atop him. It much resembles a flytrap closing its jaw on an insect lured by the nectar deposits inside.   
  
Luckily, Leorio is physically fit; he has no issues moving with the slim assassin plastered to him like some alien growth. He easily envelopes the slender frame with his strong arm, supporting them both on his elbows, when he enters Illumi, offering no warning. Not that it matters. Illumi does not make a sound when Leorio starts pushing through his tight walls. Despite what is being expected of him, he just cannot bring himself to be ungentle. Additional incentives are provided immediately:   


“Come on, I know you can do better than that,” Illumi whispers, delivering a wet lick on the inside of Leorio's ear. His breath smells nicely of milk chocolate. “You opened the second gate on your own. You can push harder. Harder, Leorio, harder, harder _._ “ Illumi hides his face somewhere around Leorio's collar bone area to examine the quality of thrusts in silence. Soon the black-haired head rises up, like a periscope of a submarine, and he speaks insistingly, “Harder, Leorio.” Leorio applies more pressure, mouth shut, teeth clenched, teashades sliding off his nose — their surface gets misty from exertion. Illumi runs spidery fingers through dark, spiky hair, stopping at the shortly cut sideburns to give it a scratch. He also corrects the other's shades. When his hand moves over the thick neck to the muscular back, his nails sink into the man's skin, sweeping him inwards. “Try harder, Leorio!” Illumi bites on his healer's jaw when the pace is quickening and the shoves get more forceful. A short, agonized “AA!” escapes him, speedily followed by: “HIT HARDER, LEH-OH! -OOOH!!”   


Illumi comes to the conclusion that he is ordering Leorio around like Kikyo probably does Silva. Is his mother as bossy in bed with his otherwise intimidating father? Very likely. Like mother like son? This makes him want to shriek with high-pitched laughter, but he suppresses the impulse, gluing himself to the other guy. Illumi does not really wish to be like Kikyo. His personality stands in stark contrast to hers just to avoid any resemblance in character. Not the looks though. The looks Kikyo's genes graced him with are of great utility.   
  
Finally, Leorio is ramming into him just right. The assassin expects his skull to crack open any moment now, letting his struggling brain fall out. Sometimes, to exorcise the crack-show away it takes creating another crack. Illumi can sense needles on his fash pierce skin, drawing blood, droplet by droplet. He jolts, eyes escape to the inside, moving rapidly behind eyelids, opened mouth forgetting how to drink air. It is a secret nobody knows, but Illumi considers his needles part of the family.   
  
The way Leorio is coming into impetuous collisions with the tall, slender praying mantis attached firmly to his underbelly makes him somewhat worried. He can cripple Illumi for life, cause some severe internal damage. Illumi worries not, for he uses protective powers of Ten, the thing Zoldyck must have picked up from occasional encounters with Hisoka at some point. But Leorio does not know Ten yet, something that will change soon, so he is torn. Torn between wanting to slow down for the assassin's sake (as an individual striving to become a doctor should), and having to keep plunging, keeping up the insane pace Zoldyck demanded so loudly of him. Leorio would also appreciate not having his name yelled again. His neighbours most likely are listening in on what they are doing here — and are mortified while at it. They may even be considering calling the police.   
  
The assassin tosses his head back, parted lips sighing honey mixed with still strong chocolate scent. This leaves him with his throat exposed. Illumi rarely does it. He prefers to have this part of him covered behind high collars. Precaution measures. The neck is such a vital yet vulnerable thing.   
  
Leorio cannot take his eyes off the view. If it is even possible at this point, he gets harder thinking he could just lean in for a taste. Before sensitive skin has a chance to hide under the top's collar stuffed with guarding needles, he moves his other hand behind Illumi and grabs him by the long strands to lock his head in this position — fingers entangle in slick darkness. Leorio moves his tongue along the exposed milky way, as he keeps ploughing, holding nothing back. He feels Illumi's nails scratch his back, leaving marks, but there is no protest. Leorio's mouth kiss the throat, closing in on where it meets the jaw. He sucks on the soft spot there, feeling it move every time Illumi tries to swallow in between pleased moans.   
  
For a brief while, Leorio is a predator here, and Illumi a prey. It is a ridiculous concept, of course, but he just cannot shake off the picture of Zoldyck as a helpless gazelle strained beneath his fangs — fangs ready to sink into the sweating flesh. The thing is, Illumi is far from helpless, but this does not matter. The vision is there, firmly imprinted, insisting not to be cast away. It is Leorio now who has the power over someone far more dangerous than he will ever be. If Leorio would ever claim he did not like the comparison, he would be lying through his teeth.   
  
This illusion fuels Leorio, he toils, drilling earnestly, the hardest he can muster. The heat of two bodies has transferred to the metallic heads on the assassin's top, and this helps him forget that the more he is pressed to the lean body, the deeper the needles go in it. Even though this is exactly what Illumi expects and wishes, up until now Leorio was mindful not to press too much. Up until now — since it is no longer possible nor does it matter.   
  
Finally, Leorio notices the obvious — the bed is standing next to the wall and it moves as violently as Leorio does inside Illumi. The frame bangs on the wall rather loudly. As Leorio tries his best, so does the bed's frame to punch a hole in the wall. Deep rifts appear on there, the wallpaper already shred, cement is falling off slowly, like dusty blood from a wound on this concrete surface — an innocent witness to a healing session. An involuntary receiver of some of the damage that is being removed from the operated-on patient.   


“ _Ooh_!” Illumi croaks into Leorio's clavicle, curled again, his legs and arms wrapped around the doctor tightly, his hip moving up, offering even smoother entrance. “Just. Like. This…”   


Just how dexterous and resilient is this guy?! — comes across Leorio's mind. Then it dawns on him he is capable to keep up, and this alone feels good. He pushes his shades up, and blushes when another realization hits — despite the horrible way it has started, it is not that bad any more. Not bad at all in fact. Partially ashamed, partially detached, he is conflicted, but one look at Illumi cutely hugged to him makes it hard to remember that this beauty is also a beast who murdered a man and dumped his corpse into the bio-organic waste container the other night. Oh, if he only knew what Illumi's assignment was _today_. But he does not know, and he will sleep better for it. Ignorance is bliss.   


They are so close to each other, their pelvic bones collide, and do not part, as if indeed they became one. Does this make Leorio a bit beastly too? Preposterous! He is a good guy. Nailing a bad guy. Or is this just a dream…   


From the other side of the wall a commotion can be heard, a door opens somewhere near, and shuts down with a slam. Steps are moving fast on the corridor, echoing angrily, getting closer. Leorio is blushing like a neon lamp. After tonight, if he lives through it, he will have to change apartments. After what Illumi forced him into, he will not be able to look the neighbours in the eyes.   


Soon there is a furious bang at Leorio's doorstep. 

“Can you keep it down, you creeps? People are trying to get some rest here!” an angry voice shouts.   


“Intrusive neighbours,” Illumi says feebly, still trembling in Leorio's embrace. His voice quickly becomes even, “Should I kill them?”   


“Don't! Just... let me... talk to them.” 

“No deal. I have got this covered.”   


Illumi releases Leorio from the suffocating death grip of his limbs, leans to the side and all he does is extend his arm towards the door. He did a similar thing during the hunter exam, only at that time it was aimed at Killua and triggered the boy into submission. Killua looked petrified and horrified then. Leorio has bad feelings about this. 

Something grisly happens. Something hair-rising. Leorio feels as if he is about to expire. He is swept into a pool where immense trauma mixes with hot conviction that someone incredibly hateful and dreadful is going to rip his spine out and beat him to a ghastly pulp with it. Assaulted by an invisible force, he forgets how to move, how to breath, how to speak. He can hear panic-struck screams outside and steps quickly retracting to where they came from. Any time now he expects to see his pounding heart be promptly removed from his chest and handed to him over, neatly wrapped in a cotton sack.   


“Ah!” Illumi chirps, satisfied. “Problem solved.” He looks at Leorio, tilts his head to the side, wondering what was it that terrorized and petrified his plaything so. “Oops!”   


“Wha…” Leorio pants, finding it difficult to speak coherently. “What was that? What's happening to _me_? Am I dead? You killed me! You filthy liar, you murdered me!”   


“You look much alive to me.”   


“I'm dead. You killed me!” Leorio sobs, lamenting his demise. “You killed me! I'm dead!”   


“I think my Ren has forced your aura nodes to open.” Illumi invokes Gyo and chuckles when he sees a fountain of white mist gushing out in all directions from Leorio's body. “Yup, it has.” He leans forward to give one bite to Leorio's trembling arm. “You are welcome.”

Illumi shifts positions. He comes off Leorio's stake, gets up on his knees, and shoves Leorio face down on the pillow. The man's butt juts invitingly out. 

“I may as well teach you something useful before you leak too much aura.” 

“What was that dreadful doom?” Leorio cries. “What is _leaking_??! Am I going to hell??” 

“Do not panic.” Illumi leans over to hold Leorio in place. He uses this opportunity to correct Leorio's teashades. When the panicked man finally stops tossing left and right, the assassin lifts himself up, his palms on the plaything's lower back, moving soothingly, warming him up, probing his entrance. “Calm down. Relax or it will hurt.”   


“For crying out loud, help me out here!”   


Leorio does not seem relaxed. He screams and sobs, but Illumi is cold like liquid nitrogen. His mental image is becoming whole again. During the crack-show he would crave to strangle this mourning individual, but now he can listen to his weeps endlessly and not flinch. This therapy is a marvellous one. A good doctor too. 

“Stop!” Leorio begs. “I can't right now! It feels like I died! I _died_ inside!” 

“Sure, you can,” Illumi assures sweetly, running circles with his finger around Leorio's hole. “And you have not died. Dead people cannot feel.” 

“Stop for a second. Just _stop_ for a _second_! Explain––“ 

“Then hurt it will.”   


Illumi slides his erected phallus inside Leorio, not trying to be intentionally cruel, but putting enough force to make it go deep in. Leorio gives off a wailing sound, a strange mix of pain, pleasure, anger, fear and utter disbelief. When he comes to his senses, he curses Zoldyck's name aloud:   


“AAA-youuu: damned, insane, heartless, soulless, heinous––“   


“Take a breath,” Illumi suggests, so Leorio takes a greedy inhale, sucking in the air as if it suddenly turned into a valuable currency that could buy him anything in the world.   


He spends it all while he carries on: “–– hideous, monstrous, crazy, irredeemable, lost forever _psychopath_!!!” Leorio's shades nearly slide off, but he manages to fix their position with his trembling index finger.   


“Do not be rude. I _am_ trying to help you,” Illumi informs patiently, slowing movements down, meantime using Shu to contain Leorio's escaping life force. “What I am doing now, is sealing your aura with my own. Be nice.”   


“It looks to me, that what you're doing now, is shove your dick up my ass, while I have no clue what the hell has just happened!”   


“Oh, this too. Leorio, you really need to learn how to multitask. Focus on what I am about to tell you.”   
  
“It's pretty hard at the moment.”   
  
“Mmmhmm, you did well. Hungry for compliments, huh? Cute.”   
  
“You bastard son of a––“ Illumi reaches out to wiggle his claws in front of Leorio's teashades before the man has a chance to finish his part in an inappropriate manner “––mother”. 

  
Illumi nods, appeased.   
  
“I sure am. Not a bastard though. I will forgive you this once. But you ought to remember that I am very sensitive about my family.”   
  
“Before; I meant concentration, you dumb ass.”   
  
“Ah, well, it is just as I have said: multitasking is the key. So, listen up.” Illumi leans to his ear, moving inside him leisurely, in and out, same tempo all the time. “Aura is your vital force that is naturally escaping throughout your lifetime. But like all things that matter, it also can be manipulated. This is what makes Hisoka's paper cards cut through solid matter, and what makes my pins _so_ special. It has multiple uses; it could help you in your medical vocation.”   
  
Illumi cannot stop himself, and while he is bent over Leorio's back he reaches to his neck. He finds the vein again and feels it with his fingertips. This time blood is rushing wild, like a waterfall, scared, screaming in horror, puzzled and confused, infuriated and excited. Zoldyck likes the combination. Next time he kills, he will palpate the pulse of the target to check if there is a difference, or if it is only Leorio's pulse that talks to him thusly. When Leorio notices the assassin's fingers pressing lightly on his artery, he tenses, shuts up, and listens attentively, probably reading it as a threat to his very existence. 

“ _Mm…”_ Illumi closes his eyes to the experience of both Leorio's butt and his pulsing vein, while demonstrating how the multitasking is done. “Control is all, Leorio. It is the only thing that truly can get you where you want to be. Now, that I accidentally opened your nodes, your aura is running out like crazy. Concentrate on forcing it around your body, so it goes in circulation and through you rather than up to the ether. For now, I'm holding it with my own, so take your time, while I'm taking mine.”   
  
Illumi straightens his back, shoving it in gently, pace even. 

From Leorio's perspective the pain is gone, replaced with a pleasant sensation building up with each and every retraction and push. Leorio concentrates, it takes some effort, he even manages to forget that he has a throbbing weapon of ass destruction moving inside him. The slow charging rate Illumi applies makes the living hardness within him feel as if it were his own. Illumi motions lazily, and sighs quietly, takes it easy, caressing Leorio's sides with light touches of his fingers — but he seems detached. He seems to be somewhere else, deep in himself rather than in Leorio. The connection betwixt them, though real on a physical level, is artificial where it really matters. After all, Illumi is a manipulator, he tends to use people as he sees fit, for entirely his own purpose. So no — there is no bond there. There will never be.   
  
In comparison with the brutal blitz Illumi forced Leorio to perform on himself, it is now calm work, like sailing peaceful waters or swinging on a teeter-totter. Somehow, as odd as it sounds, it helps to concentrate. Leorio is too inexperienced with Nen to tell if Illumi is supporting him with Nen in more than one way. It takes several minutes, maybe ten, maybe more — it is impossible to tell, when Leorio suddenly feels as if he were surrounded by a lukewarm liquid. He is not sure where this comes from. It could have two possible sources. Three, taking into consideration that he has just spilled his seed beneath him.   
  
“This is it,” Illumi purrs like a cat. “Congrats. You have nailed it. Keep it up like this and you will be fine.” His thrusts are still unchanged, painstakingly gradual, as he pulls out, and plunges in, rocking his hips up and down like a well attuned pendulum, holding to the rhythm only he can hear, almost like a clock work mechanism. It seems as if an invisible someone were truly repairing him with a precision of a watchmaker to these refined, perfectly measured motions: oiling his wheels, fixing loose screws, dusting off plates, removing rust, replacing damaged springs and other used elements with shiny new ones. He is being repaired. Or, simply this is how this otherwise violent man enjoys it. Paradoxically. “Aah... Smart boy. You may also be the first one to come from learning Ten.”   
  
“I, ugh… still––“   
  
“Shush. The lesson is over. You will have to figure the rest out on your own.”   
  
The next time Leorio feels a wave of warmth, it is inside him, and it is coming from Illumi still anchored to his rear. Just the moment prior, the assassin's nimble fingers grab him by the hair and tug his head back. Illumi moans softly, arching his back, unloading inside Leorio, jet-black strands fall behind him in inky cascades, pins on his top glitter triumphantly in the dim orange glow. A moment freezes in time — the two resemble characters on a painting —> ~[The pale knight halts his brave steed]~. It is just too bad there is no wind because it would fit the scenery perfectly. Leorio's teashades drop to the pillow, and slide down with a rustle, exhausted with holding onto his nose throughout this wild ride — would you believe this? Needles would _never_ let _their_ master down so.   
  
The moment passes. Illumi relaxes, his shoulders go down, head limply lolls over his chest, eyes shut. When he tilts his head to the side, he can sense the last crack vanishing from the phantom mirror's surface in his imagination. The reflection once again shows the passionless face of the Illumi Zoldyck he is almost his entire life. The crack-show is over, even though there are things that need to be done to wrap the process up.   
  
Illumi removes himself from Leorio and rushes to the pile where his clothes are.   
Leorio, face still buried in the pillow, butt still up, makes an effort to turn his head and look after him. 

“You happy? We okay now? Can we forget about what I saw?”   
  
“I cannot forget. It would be irresponsible of me, but you sure can. You even ought to.” Illumi is no longer smiling, though his voice is chipper. Then again, it often sounds this way. When he gets dressed, he fishes one needle out. “Our session is almost over.”   
  
Leorio's eyes grow larger when he sees the twinkling pin. He sits on the bed, alarmed.   
  
“You said you won't kill me!” he whispers and then suddenly his face becomes stark and determined. He clenches his bare fists, rises them to his eyes level; eyes that are sparkling with defiance. “Come then! I won't go down so easily. I'll fight!” He punches the air several times.   
  
“That was not a lie. I am just making sure as to the doctor-patient confidentiality.”   
  
“Told you, I won't spill my guts.”   
  
“I cannot leave anything to chance.”   
  
He moves closer, noticing Leorio tremble. He must have recognized the change in the assassin's demeanour. Somehow it feels as if Leorio is now looking at a completely different person. Leorio is not sure which Illumi scares him the most, but he is still shaking in fear for his life. Apparently both Illumis are equally nightmarish.   
  
“You will become a good doctor,” Illumi says. “You cured my ache, and nobody died. Exceptional performance. I got from you what I needed, and so I am going to leave you a gift.”   
  
“A––“   
  
Illumi places his finger on Leorio's lips as he gets closer, hand with the needle moving stealthy behind the man's head.   
  
“Look me in the eyes, Leorio.”   
  
Leorio does and gets trapped. Illumi releases a bit of his aura, mesmerizing the plaything, making it obey. His soft, silent voice sing-songs in Leorio's ears when he speaks:   
  
“In an event we see each other again, especially if Killu is in need of a lesson on why friends are a burden he cannot let himself carry, or if I need to see a doctor again,” he offers a small smile, “I shall bestow upon you something that will keep reminding you of my will. For now, kiss me goodbye.”   
  
And Leorio obediently leans forward, cups angelic features in his large, now steady hands, and places three light kisses on the pink skin there. He learned how Zoldyck likes it — it has to be tender, and it has to be rough, order may vary. He wets Illumi's lips, nibbles on them slightly, and when they part, he forces his tongue deep into the assassin's mouth, stealing his oxygen.   
  
Illumi murmurs approvingly, letting Leorio feast on his wet muscle. He finds the pulsing vein on the young medic's neck, and listens to it again. Just to check this curious blood-flow thing on other people, Illumi will happily jump on his next assignment, displaying more enthusiasm for his work than ever before. The pulse is now even, with rare hectic tones, which brings a hiccup to mind. If he were still in the crack-show mode, he would at some point want to rip the artery out to inspect it scrupulously. Now he only marvels as the needle in his other hand slides unnoticed into the base of Leorio's skull. The man does not seem to realize it, if anything, he presses himself closer to Illumi's body, hand sliding up and down the manipulator's back as if he was getting ready to undress him again. When the needle is placed, Illumi reclaims his tongue, and issues commands through the pin straight into Leorio's brain:   
  
“You will forget about what happened between us. Your eyes will be blind to the marks I gave you.” Illumi gives Leorio one last bite on the neck, right below the jaw — a very visible one. “Practice your Nen. Hold onto these shades, they suit you. Do not get in my way, by which I mean, keep your distance from Killu, and I may just not want to kill you — yet.” Illumi runs his finger along the bridge of Leorio's nose. “Between you and me, it is my dream to spare your life, so that I can watch my little brother take it one day. On that note, if you think you have learned something about Killua I may not yet be aware of, text me instantly, remove the message from your mobile, and forget about it. Am I making myself clear?”   
  
Leorio nods, his expression blank, eyes transfixed on the manipulator's lips.   


“Awesome! In an hour you will receive a call. It will be me. Set up Blondie's 'Call me' as a ringtone for my number. _Never_ erase it.” Illumi moves buoyantly towards the window. Only now he notices it was opened all the time. “Gotta go. It was a great pleasure getting to know you closer. Nighty night.” He does not even wave Leorio goodbye. There is no point to it as Leorio is still in a trance. Illumi jumps out the window right into the cool darkness. 

Leorio is left alone, rocking back and forth, ingesting commands for about fifteen minutes. Then he calmly goes to sleep, _holding onto those shades because they suit him_. The window remains opened. 

He does not remember a thing in relation to Illumi when he wakes up in the morning. His muscles ache. He thinks he is coming down with the flu. Why are there infernal fires raging up his ass, this he cannot explain. A new mutation of the flu virus –– perhaps. 

There is a half-eaten chocolate bar on his desk. How did it get there, he also does not know, but he happily devours it whole. He has no clue it was poisoned. The dose is not lethal, and poison is not a terrible one –– but since he has no immunity to it, it will cause him a burdensome diarrhoea in about a week. 

  
  


*   
  
  


Some time later Leorio will notice he has obtained super-powers. He will not know how they awakened, but he will contact Kurapika immediately. He will phone him, while sitting on a throne in a public restroom, and tell him all about it in an excited voice. The last surviving member of the Kurta clan will kindly ignore the occasional 'plop' sounds in the background, and ask him a few to-the-point questions. From there Leorio will be led by no other than Wing into the world of Nen. 

But he needs to pass the entrance exam at the medical university first. 

  


  
* 

  
  


As for Illumi, he steps lightly into the night, needles on his front glitter in the sleeping city lights. Cracks are gone, he is whole again, the reflection in the mirror stares back at him as menacing, and passionless as it is meant to be. 

Individuals with wealthy enemies can continue to fear for their lives. 

Unlike the trendy Leorio teashades, Illumi's handy needles will always stand by his side, forever, no matter what. This is _not_ just empty bragging. This is the law of the Universe. 

⸸⸸⸸


End file.
